


The Nature of Things

by Lafeae



Series: Whump/Hurt/Comfort challenge [6]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Challenge Response, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 06:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: Things broke. It was the nature of existence.Hundreds of things broke a day, whether it be TVs or computers, locks or zippers. Potato chips, dishes, toys, shoes.  They reached the point where they took all the tension they could, and they broke.Which meant that people also broke. They broke mentally, emotionally, spiritually...physically.Isono is there for Seto through after a serious accident, there to help him along the way as he heals...in whatever was he can.—Guardshipping





	The Nature of Things

**Author's Note:**

> Guardshipping suggestion with the prompt ‘Hospital Stay’ for marshmallons. Enjoy!

Things broke. It was the nature of existence.

Hundreds of things broke a day, whether it be TVs or computers, locks or zippers. Potato chips, dishes, toys, shoes. The coffee pot in Isono's apartment had been broken for three weeks, but he hadn't had the time to go out and get a new one. It was just the nature of things. They reached the point where they took all the tension they could, and they broke.

Which meant that people also broke. They broke mentally, emotionally, spiritually...physically.

Of all the things that Isono had listed on the backside of the hospital's cafeteria menu from four days prior, he had intentionally avoided listing people. Their skin, their muscle, their bones. Bones broke so easily. All it took was enough pressure in the wrong direction. He was trained to break bones with relative ease, all it took was quick strike from the butt of his palm or a flick of his wrist.

He'd had enough experience breaking fingers that he had equated it to snapping a pencil wrapped in a warm lunch meat; it was second nature—enough people had laid their hands on Kaiba Seto that he'd stopped counting the moments—so much so that he pondered if it was more like bologna or prosciutto. Seto probably would have said prosciutto if Isono dared to ask his employer's opinion, but Seto wouldn't have entertained the question for very long. He was too busy for such inane questions.

Slowly, reluctantly, Isono added to his list of broken things.

_Car - Bugatti Chiron (metallic blue), 20XX_

_-windshield, window (driver's side), door (driver's side), side-view mirror (driver's side), headlights, hood._

_Person - Kaiba Seto 19 yrs_

_-zygomatic & mandible (right), clavicle & radius/ulna (right), 3 ribs (all right), T12 -L1 (bones + _ _**nerves?**_ _)._

Isono paused. There was so more much to write; muscles, ligaments, tendons...the myriad of long and extensive lacerations on Seto's legs that left them mummified beneath the blanket. They weren't broken, so it didn't go on the list, but the details plagued him for the last four days and culminated in one thought: how shameful it was that, for the hundreds of attempts to harm Seto that he'd thwarted, he'd been unable to stop something as base as a car wreck. He wasn't driving; it was his day off, how could he have of?

Somehow, he thought it was his fault. The timing was too perfect. But maybe he was looking too much into it.

"...mmph..."

"Seto-sama?"

Seto gurgled, fighting for words with the wire that held his jaw together. Isono leaned in close and turned his ear towards Seto. "...Moku...Mokuba...where is...?"

"Home, safe and sound."

"...but he was...with me..."

"He wasn't in the car."

Seto struggled to open the unbruised left eye, and the piercing blue gaze looked Isono over for any faults. The pain and heavy-doses of morphine may have muddled Seto's mind, but a keen eye would know he was fighting for every bearing and trying to hold his own in spite of weakness. "...you...you're sure?"

"I'm positive. Mokuba wasn't in the car with you."

"...you...? You were driving..."

"I wasn't," Isono assured.

"...but...you always...nngh."

Anguish rippled across Seto's face. A shaking hand reached up, weakly clinging to the railing of the bed, and Isono laid his fingers over top of Seto's to gingerly move them back and let him rest. Instead, Seto's fingers curled beneath Isono's palm, his thumbnail gently stroking the length of the bodyguard's thumb before tapping the joint.

"I know, but I wasn't this time," Isono replied. He cupped Seto's hand between his and eased it back onto the bed. "Now stop talking, you need to rest."

If it weren't for the swelling, Seto's trademark smirk would have been more clear. "...you...you can't..."

"I can. My job is to protect you, even if it's from yourself."

"...t-touché..."

Others wouldn't have seen the smile Seto gave him, even if he wasn't bruised. But Isono spent nearly every waking moment with his employer. He knew the signals, the small twitches in his face or the way his shoulders loosened.

Seto's fingers gripped tight to Isono's when he went to pull away. "...don't let go..."

"Sir?"

"...you heard me..."

Isono nodded. "Of course, sir. Get some rest; I'll be here when you wake up."

"...good..."

Seto drifted into unconsciousness again, just shy of Isono reassuring him that everything was going to be alright. He'd held those words from the very beginning, believing them whole-heartedly. He admired Seto's tenacity and knew that he could make it through this, no matter how many more days in the hospital it took.

He'd be there for every one of them.

—

"You're lying!" Mokuba shouted at a trembling doctor.

It took two weeks for the hospital staff to confirm what Isono had noticed from Seto's lack of movement: there was extensive damage to the spinal cord, though they had had to wait for the swelling to dissipate before they could be sure that it wasn't pressuring the nerves in Seto's back.

"There's no way he's paralysed! He feels when I touch him. Watch!" Mokuba yanked back the covers, revealing his brother's bandaged legs, but before he could do anything Seto looked to Isono who pulled the younger Kaiba back.

"Now, now, Mokuba-sama..."

"Let me go!" Mokuba smacked Isono's hands and wriggled from him hold. "I'm telling you, you've got it wrong. My brother can still walk. Run the tests again!"

"Mokuba..." Seto chided.

Mokuba clutched his hands to his chest as his eyes filled with tears. Gently, he shook his head. "They're wrong, nii-sama. They have to be. You said you felt my hand and...and..."

"And touch and movement are different," Seto said robotically.

"But you can! You're gonna be able to walk. They can't tell you that you can't!"

Quietly, Isono agreed, even against all logic, because it meant that all the accident left behind were scars that Seto had lived through and not a daily reminder of how someone else, some stranger with reckless abandonment, had forever changed how he looked at himself in the mirror. He knew that, eventually, Seto would look at himself with pride and as an obelisk of strength and persistence, but there would be struggle and heartache first. And for every moment of Seto's heartache, he would watch and wish there was something he could have done to change the outcome.

"What are the chances of me walking again?" Seto asked the doctor. It didn't surprise Isono that he was steadfast, stoic, or resigned.

"Hard to say. It's still early."

"I see."

Mokuba stuck out his tongue and sat on the edge of the bed as the doctor spoke about the recovery and rehabilitation timetables, barely entertaining Seto's question about being able to walk. Not that Isono imagined him entertaining it either—it was all a face for Mokuba.

Once the doctor left, Mokuba's head dropped to his chest. "We should get a different doctor."

"Mm."

"One that can actually do something. He's lying. You can walk again, I know you can."

Slowly, Mokuba laid down against Seto and hugged his arm in place of embracing him wholly, babbling on about everything they were going to do once Seto was healed—KaibaLand inspections, trips to the beach, gaming expos and tech demos, tournament season. He talked until he could barely awake, slurring through his words as he buried his head in Seto's shoulder. Soon, short snores began.

"Tuckered himself out," Isono said. He sighed and stood. "It's about time I take him home, anyways."

Seto silently agreed.

Isono was careful to extract the younger Kaiba, aware that Seto had stiffened even before he was touched. The grimace never quite left Seto's face even after Isono situated Mokuba on his back. His arm curled up over his chest, and he played with the strap on his sling.

It wasn't like Seto to be anxious, but with Mokuba wriggling on his back, Isono didn't have the time to ask.

The entire drive back to the estate, he wondered what was on Seto's mind, what he wanted to say but couldn't find the voice to say. A broken jaw hadn't stopped Seto from talking, and he spared no one's feelings—except for Mokuba's. Isono sighed.

When he returned, the lights to the rooms had dimmed for the evening, and Seto had drifted asleep again. Taking a chair from beside the bed, Isono positioned it by the door and used his suit jacket to fashion it into a makeshift bed for the rest of the night.

He drank in the quiet room which, over two weeks, had become more of a bedroom than a hospital room. He'd made it that way for Seto, trying to bring him any of the comforts from home to make the days more bearable. Blankets and pillows from his bed, toiletries, different sets of lounging clothes and a robe. His deck and briefcase of Duel Monster cards that had been touched once and left open, with a specific pile started that Isono didn't want to disrupt. On the side tablet was a tower of technology: a laptop, tablet, and phone that had been rarely touched where he was too weak or too tired to bother.

"Isono...?" Seto murmured.

"Here, sir."

"Mokuba's home?"

"Of course."

The executive shifted about, fighting with the blanket at his waist to try and pull it down. Isono jumped up from his seat and went to the bed to pulled the back to the footboard.

"Is there anything else I can do before we turn in?"

"Watch."

"Sir?"

Seto raised the bed up high enough that he had a good view of his legs. He focused his stare towards his toes, holding his breath until his face turned red and frustrated tears brimmed in his eyes.

"Seto-sama...it's alright if it's not immediate. I'll find another specialist for you if you—,"

"No!"

Isono snapped his jaw shut and watched, hoping that the doctors were wrong. Hoping that Seto made miracles, and that his toes were suddenly waggle to give them a glimmer of something. But somehow, Isono knew this wasn't about him seeing. It was about Seto proving this reality to himself one way or the other. Seto didn't do hope. "If given the choice of hope or truth, pick truth. Give me truth," Seto had told him once, though he never remembered rest of the conversation.

After several seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours of Seto's critical stare, he leaned over and grabbed onto Isono's sleeve, clutching it with all his strength as he pulled himself to the edge of the bed.

"Seto-sama, please, you'll hurt yourself."

"Help me up."

"What about your back?"

Seto hooked his arm around Isono's neck, and the beleaguered guard moved his legs to the edge of the bed to let them hang. Through the short movement, Seto gasped and clawed at the back of his neck before twisting his fingers in the fold of Isono's collar.

He moved until the soles of Seto's feet laid on the tile, though one rolled limply towards the side as his knees knocked together. Perseverance dotted Seto's brow with sweat as he tried to ease his knees apart and steady his legs. Isono could only imagine what he was thinking as he seethed, blowing out hot air in frustration while trying not to scream.

"What are you waiting for? Pick me up," Seto demanded.

Isono embraced Seto with trepidation biting at every molecule of his being. This was going to end badly. Seto was blinded by pain and frustration, fear and...shame. It had to be shame. Because just like Seto didn't do hope, he also didn't do shame.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You've helped me dress. Now. Pick. Me. Up."

Isono' hands slid down his back, plucking across the brace, before slipping beneath his hips and hitching him up. But not all the way. Just enough that he could pull them close together so Seto's chin rested on his shoulder.

"I won't. You're in pain, and its clouding your mind. This isn't easy; I can't even begin to imagine how much this hurts for you. I...I can't do anything about that, but I can help you."

"I'll fire you."

"Then do it, but I won't let you hurt yourself worse. I'll help you find better doctors, or technology, or whatever you need to make yourself better." Isono felt Seto's forehead dig into his shoulder, his gasps fading away. "I'll do anything for you. I pledged that loyalty to you, and I would do the same thing even if you didn't pay me."

"Isono—,"

"Until you figure out something, I will be your legs, Seto-sama. If you'll let me."

Wet, humid spots formed on Isono's shoulder where Seto's eyes were. His hand fell from Isono's neck and snaked it down to his elbow, loosely holding it like he wasn't sure where his hand was supposed to be. It quickly dropped to Isono's side before reaching around his back. His head turned, and warm, wetted lips pressed to Isono's neck.

Isono didn't let his hold weaken even as his muscles wanted to give out. Time was suddenly irrelevant. Sitting with Seto embracing him was the only thing that mattered, and he would happily let Seto hold onto him and gather his bearings. He didn't know if this was vulnerability or morphine, so he said nothing.

But Seto was smart. Too smart.

Maybe somewhere in their eight year relationship, kept as professional as they could both muster, Seto had discerned when Isono was being diligent and when he was being affectionate. Like when he mixed cocoa with Seto’s coffee when it snowed, or purposefully cooking Seto's favourites when Mokuba ordered him to be sure that Seto ate at work, or telling Seto passive stories when they worked for more than twenty-four hours and were both delirious.

It had grown from fondness for a sassy, strong-willed boy with a smart mouth and sharp mind, to something unspoken once Seto became mature. He didn't realise it until now, as Seto fought to pull his head up and plant a kiss on his cheek, that it was physical.

Isono turned his cheek to make it easier for Seto.

"I'm tired, Isono."

Isono nodded and placed Seto back in bed, adjusting the pillows beneath his shoulders and knees like the nurses showed him, moving his injured arm properly back into the sling to let it lay across his chest. The blankets were pulled back up. "Is there anything else, Seto-sama?"

"No."

"Sleep well."

"You'll be here?"

Isono took his place in the chair by the door. "Of course."

"Good."

—

They made the hospital room into a home office for the next two weeks that they kept Seto, easing him into rehabilitation as he came to grips with his reality while Mokuba still fought hospital staff over their 'phoney diagnosis'. Isono knew that Seto believed them; only he knew the extent of his injuries. Winced from them, refused to talk about them, and struggled to come to terms with them.

There was a downslope for a time.

"Pain brings depression. So does change," Seto said when Isono brought it to his attention.

"Do you want me to call a counsellor?"

"No."

"Do you...want to talk to someone?" Seto's head canted to the side. Not a full answer, but Isono nodded. "Who?"

"You," Seto said. Isono blinked. "Do what you do in meetings. Hear, but don't listen."

"I can try."

Seto didn't expect it, Isono was sure, but sometimes he spoke, mentioning how the pain "fucking hurt" or how "fucking stupid was I? Did I fall asleep? What if Mokuba had been in the car?" Isono never replied to his rants no matter how much he wanted to, and when Seto was finished he went back to studying.

Nerve regrowth, spinal cord neurotherapy, designs on exoskeletons. Anything and everything Seto could get his hands on was gobbled up. Experts were called, engineers were consulted. Though late one night, Isono readjusted him in bed and found left-handed drawings on grid paper for his own designs.

Every night, Seto asked the same thing: "Will you be here?"

The answer was always: "Of course."

It was unbroken weeks of being at Seto's side, doing all manner of tasks he'd never been trained for. The bodyguard found himself being more adept than the aide who, after two weeks, was fired.

"I'd rather have you touch me," Seto explained.

Blush crept up Isono's back, but he was curt and professional. "Understood, sir."

Somehow, it had all changed, and yet it all stayed the same. They were every bit as professional as they had always been. But when they were alone, he would rest his hand on Seto's and let the executive knot their fingers together.

Late one night some six months after the accident, Isono finished up the last rounds for securing the manor before going back to the study to report to Seto.

"I'm retiring for the evening, sir," he said.

Seto nodded, but before Isono could turn around, he ordered: "Wait a moment."

"Sure."

Seto picked his jacket up from his lap, laying it on the desk before wheeling out to Isono and parking it by the guard. Bending over, he flicked the footrests of the side and dropped his feet on the ground, adjusting his legs so that his knees weren't touching.

"Help me stand."

Isono blinked. "Stand?"

"Yes. Pick me up and let me stand. I want to feel it again."

Sometimes, he forgot that Seto could still feel everything that he couldn't move.

With little hesitation, Isono picked Seto up by the torso and laid them chest to chest, watching as Seto's legs swayed and buckled. Quickly, Seto looped his arms beneath Isono's armpits, his chest lying against Isono's. Beneath the cool exterior, Isono felt Seto's heart hammering.

They shimmied around until Seto's feet were flat and his legs were straight. Then, he felt Seto move gently to each side, like he was slipping away. As soon as it was fixed, he slipped to the other side.

"You're swaying, sir."

"And?"

"Nothing. Just an observation."

Intentional. Isono nodded and moved with Seto, one of his hands resting on the small of his employer's back. The makeshift dance didn't last more than two or three minutes. Long enough that Seto's breathing became laboured.

He placed Seto back in the wheelchair and kissed him on top of his head.

It didn't happen every night, to Isono's dismay, but it was frequent enough. Standing, swaying, sometimes talking in the middle of it. Nothing special, Isono thought. Just being Seto's legs, as he'd promised. Sometimes, he was convinced he saw a foot drag forward or a knee bend on its own, though it was probably his imagination.

But the nature of broken things, he thought as he left one night, was that they could be fixed.

Even people.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s a rare pair. But tell me what you think!


End file.
